


The Female Gaze

by lilydaydreams



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Artist Korra, Artists, Canon Queer Character, Canon Queer Relationship, Enthusiastic Consent, Explicit Consent, F/F, Friends to Lovers, Korra POV, Korra/Asami Sato-centric, Miscommunication, Pining, Portrait of a lady on fire au, Portraits, Queer Themes, Romantic Fluff, Romantic Gestures
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2020-12-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:54:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27571873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilydaydreams/pseuds/lilydaydreams
Summary: Korra is an artist following in the footsteps of her father and doing her best to make it in a man's world. Hiroshi Sato, a wealthy nobleman, hires her to act as his daughter Asami's walking companion during the day while secretly painting her at night. Shouldn't be too hard, right?(Literally just Portrait of a Lady on Fire, but make it Korrasami.)
Relationships: Asami Sato & Hiroshi Sato, Jinora & Asami Sato, Jinora & Korra (Avatar), Korra/Asami Sato
Comments: 19
Kudos: 209





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Hey ao3! This idea has been floating around in my head for a while. I adore Korrasami, and I adore Portrait of a Lady on Fire, and I'm super gay, and that's how this happened. This fic will update weekly on Saturday nights, possibly more frequently, and will probably end up being around five or six chapters total. It exists in a non-bending, vaguely historical AU version of the Avatar universe/Republic City, and both Korra and Asami are around 20 yrs old. Jinora's here too because I love her.  
> Thanks for reading, I'm happy to have you here!

Korra twists her fingers in her lap with the nervous, pent-up energy she’s had as soon as she stepped foot on the Sato estate. Republic City is already different in so many ways than what she’d grown up around, and being in the presence of such extreme wealth and opulence put her out of her comfort zone a bit from the start. She takes a deep breath and looks Hiroshi Sato in the eye, putting on her best front as a professional. It’s already unorthodox that he’s hired Korra, not a man, to paint a portrait of his daughter, and she reminds herself that she’s on thin ice here.

Korra stares at a portrait above Sato’s head as they make small talk about her journey and her home in the Southern Water Tribe. It depicts a beautiful young woman, seated with her hands decorously folded, with flowing locks of black hair and a sweet smile.

Sato notices Korra’s distraction and without turning around, realizes what’s caught her attention. “She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” he says with a slightly bittersweet smile and Korra nods her assent. “My late wife, Yasuko. And of course, it’s Tonraq’s work.”

Korra doesn’t have time to process the fact that Sato’s wife has passed away before the reference to her father. She’s reminded with a tinge of resentment that the only reason she’s here is because her father, a legendary artist in his time, has done her the favor of giving her a glowing recommendation to all his old clients. She can’t decide if she thinks it’s a family business or nepotism.

“Of course,” she says politely. “I’m proud to be here to carry on the family tradition.”

Sato leans back in his chair and sighs a bit. “Korra, as you know, I’ve hired you to paint a portrait of my daughter, who is now of marriageable age and several potential suitors in surrounding kingdoms. This portrait is to be sent to a prince in the Earth Kingdom.” She nods again. None of this is new information.

“What might come as a surprise to you,” he continues, “Is that you are not the first artist I have hired to paint my daughter.”

She blinks a little and does her best to mask the confusion she’s feeling. “What do you mean?”

“My daughter stubbornly refuses to pose for a portrait for any artist. You are here to paint her, yes, but she is to be under the impression that you are here as a paid companion for her. That is, you will accompany her on walks through the city during the day and provide her company when needed, observing her by day and painting her by night.”

Korra almost questions whether this is some elaborate joke, but Sato’s face is stony and serious. She takes a moment to process it: she’s supposed to paint an accurate, flattering portrait of this girl without a reference in front of her? She supposes she’s not in a position to turn down this job. “She refuses to pose for a portrait, sir?” she repeats back to him, confirming that she heard him correctly the first time.

“Asami – my daughter – is a willful young lady. She is unsatisfied with her current situation and would prefer not to get married, and has put it upon herself to make the process as difficult for me as possible,” Sato says wryly.

_ Asami _ . Korra wants to say it out loud, roll the name around on her tongue to test it out, but she knows that’s inappropriate while she’s having a business conversation with Sato. She resolves to save it for later when she’s in the comfort of her own chambers, able to savor the sweetness of the girl’s name properly.

“I see,” Korra says, although she really doesn’t. They discuss further details of payment, the length of her stay, and other logistics, but Korra’s mind keeps wandering off to how the hell she’s going to pull this off.

* * *

One of Sato’s servants – a younger girl, perhaps in her mid teens, named Jinora – escorts Korra to her new living chambers to get settled. It’s a large, airy room, like much else in the Sato estate, and it has a curtained area in which she can set up her easel and painting supplies to work at night.

“Mr. Sato asked that I take you to meet Asami after you’re settled here, ma’am,” Jinora informs her politely.

“Just Korra is fine,” Korra assures her, already uncomfortable with the level of formality that seems to be expected here.

Jinora expertly guides her through the halls, although it seems like a maze to Korra and she wonders whether she’ll be able to find her way back to her room. They make their way to a pair of large doors, which Jinora perfunctorily knocks on and opens for Korra.

Korra steps into what appears to be some sort of spacious sitting room, bathed in natural light and surrounded by bookcases. Across the room is a large armchair, and she sees a figure, clothed in a deep scarlet dress, pick herself up out of it and stride towards the two of them.

Korra isn’t sure what she expected, but while the girl standing in front of her is undeniably stunning, she is not the kind of soft, doe-eyed beauty Korra had imagined based on her noble status and the portrait Korra had seen of Yasuko. She doesn’t look unlike her mother’s portrait, but she is so much more. Asami’s beauty has an air of strength about it. It’s in her sharp jaw and high cheekbones framed by long, dark curls, vibrant, piercing green eyes, aristocratic nose, soft curves, yes. But it’s also in the way she keeps her chin high and her posture rigid, how she studies Korra right back as Korra looks at her for the first time. She is an artist’s dream. Korra’s dream.

Korra shakes herself out of her reverie, but the momentary glint of amusement and hint of a smirk that flickers across the woman’s face suggests that perhaps she was caught staring.

“Hello. I’m Korra,” she finally says, her mouth a little dry. 

Asami smiles and reaches out to shake Korra’s hand. Her hand feels rough and calloused, not unlike Korra’s own, and certainly not what Korra would have expected of a woman of her status. Then again, Asami seems to be full of surprises. 

“I’m Asami. It’s nice to meet you. I understand you’re my new walking companion?” Her eyes are wide and kind, and her smile is genuine, as if she senses that Korra is nervous.

Korra nods, and vaguely notes in the back of her mind that Jinora has slipped out of the room to give them some privacy. “So, should we, uh, go for our first walk?” She almost winces as the words come out, kicking herself for being so awkward. Why is she so out of her element here, she wonders? She chalks it up to her intimidation at the wealth and lavishness of this place and resolves to put it behind her.

“That would be perfect,” Asami says. “Let me grab my coat, and we can go explore Republic City together.”

* * *

They talk as they wander the city, and it gives Korra the opportunity to study Asami’s face. It’s windy out, and Asami has tied her long, wavy locks back with a scarlet ribbon to match her dress. As Korra’s own hair flies in and out of her eyes, she tries to take an accurate snapshot of Asami’s face in her mind. It doesn’t hurt that Asami is quite possibly Korra’s new favorite subject to look at. 

Every few minutes or so, Asami seems to catch Korra staring a little longer than is normal, and her eyes flash and she stares right back for a moment until Korra lowers her eyes. Once or twice, Korra thinks she might have seen Asami look her body up and down, but she assumes she’s imagining it or that Asami is just interested in her Water Tribe attire.

“That’s my favorite restaurant in the city,” Asami says, pointing to a place up ahead of them on the side of the street. “We’ll have to go sometime.”

Korra’s eyes widen and she nods her assent. Asami has been pointing out various landmarks as they make their way through the streets of Republic City, but this is the first time on their walk she’s suggested spending more time together.

“It seems like you’re pretty well acquainted with the city,” Korra says. “Has your father always been so strict about not letting you out on your own?”

Asami nods and something resembling regret flashes across her face. “Yes. He’s always been protective about everything, whether it’s me going out alone or continuing my schooling. When my mother died, I think he doubled down on that.”

“I’m sorry about your mother,” Korra says, unsure how to respond or show her sympathy. 

“Don’t be,” Asami says resolutely, her eyes fixed straight ahead as they continue to walk. “It was a long time ago.”

“I’m surprised your father permits you to go out walking with just another woman for company,” Korra says, privately thinking to herself that the walking companion explanation for why she’s here is a rather shoddy excuse on Mr. Sato’s part.

Asami’s demeanor suddenly changes from the stoniness that was in her eyes a moment prior, and she turns to Korra with a slight smirk, stopping the two of them in their tracks. “Well, from what I can see, you’re plenty equipped to take care of anything...should we get into any trouble.” Her fingers graze lightly over Korra’s upper arm.

Korra knows her arms are muscular. In fact, they are unusually so, for a young woman, some people have informed her in the past. Her cheeks redden and she stammers for a moment before formulating a coherent response. “Um...thank you?”

Asami laughs, a light, airy sound, and resumes walking. Korra falls in step next to her and tries not to think too much about what all of that meant.

“You mentioned your father and him controlling your education? What’s that all about?” Korra is changing the subject, and they both know it, but she wants to know. She is studying Asami’s face, yes, but she wants to get at everything that’s underneath.

Asami sighs. “I attended university for two years, studying engineering. My father was reluctant to allow me to do that, but I wore him down. I was hoping he’d let me finish my degree, even though I knew I’d never really be able to use it the way I wanted to, but I had to withdraw this year.”

Korra’s first reaction is righteous outrage, and she restrains herself from using some choice words that probably aren’t appropriate around a noblewoman. “What? Why? If he let you attend for two years anyway, why not just let you finish up?”

Asami shrugs. “Just a minute. I don’t know about you, but I’m getting a little tired. There’s a park up here that I like to sit in sometimes.”

Korra follows her, and Asami guides her into a relatively secluded area and sits down on a park bench under some trees that provide a light sprinkling of shade above them. Korra sits down on the bench next to her and waits for her to continue.

When Asami finally speaks, the words sound stilted and false. “My uncle died this past year, and I guess Dad realized that he’s getting older and wanted to make sure my future was secure. University wasn’t going to do that for me. It’s just delaying the inevitable.”

“The inevitable?” Korra echoes, even though she thinks she knows already.

“Marriage. It’s getting closer and closer. I’m twenty already, practically a spinster.” Her tone is sarcastic but Korra realizes there’s a truth behind Asami’s words – marriage to an eligible bachelor, preferably a marriage to increase the Sato family’s wealth or status, has been in the cards for her since her birth.

“Is that what you want?” Korra asks. 

“Does it matter what I want?” 

“Of course. That’s all that matters.” The words feel hollow to Korra, knowing she herself is an instrument in Sato’s hands to bring around Asami’s fate against her will.

“Enough about me,” Asami says firmly, and Korra is all too glad to drop the subject and escape the growing feeling of guilt in the pit of her stomach. “I want to know about you. What’s your story?”

There’s something about Asami, her dry humor and hidden smirks coupled with the genuineness and earnestness that fills her eyes as she learns toward Korra, that makes Korra want to open up to her and tell her everything. Obviously that’s not an option, so Korra thinks about what she  _ can _ share.

She ends up telling Asami about what it was like to grow up in the Southern Water Tribe. Her culture, her friends, the antics she got up to as a kid. She leaves out the fact that most of her teen years were spent under Tonraq’s apprenticeship learning to paint, and that despite mastering the craft as an adult, she’s had little opportunity the past couple years to put those skills to good use. 

Korra tells Asami about the sports she competed in sometimes back home, despite the fact that she was the only woman in a sea of men. “Look at us,” Asami says, grinning. “An athlete and an engineer. How very unorthodox of us.” Korra laughs and wishes she could share the full extent of it.

* * *

That night, her room bathed in dim candlelight, Korra begins working on the portrait and thinks rather optimistically that maybe she doesn’t need a reference after all. Asami’s face is burned into her mind now, anyway. She couldn’t forget it if she tried.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of love to those of you who have left kudos/bookmarked/subscribed already! Thank you for reading! I anticipate that chapters after this one will be a bit longer, and I might break my posting schedule to update early...we'll see!

Korra realizes rather quickly that she was wrong about being able to paint Asami without the other girl in front of her. She can’t place exactly what’s wrong, but the half-finished portrait comes nowhere close to capturing all that Asami is. It’s not inaccurate. Korra’s visual memory has always been phenomenal. She knows even her father would praise the technical mastery of it. But it doesn’t really portray Asami.

How is Korra supposed to paint the way Asami’s eyes sparkle in the sun when the two of them stroll through Republic City? The understated confidence and poise in Asami’s stride? The way her dark hair bounces in a way that defies physics, how her laugh lights something up deep inside Korra’s chest till she feels like she can’t breathe? 

As an artist, it frustrates Korra that she can’t capture the beauty of the most beautiful person she’s seen in her life. But if she admits it to herself, deep down, she’s almost relieved that something of Asami is still hidden away from the potential suitor who will see this painting. It’s like there’s something of Asami that’s still hers and hers alone.

* * *

Korra and Asami sit in the garden’s estate on a little bench nestled in between two bushes. It’s a hot day out, and the two of them want to enjoy the fresh air, but the prospect of walking far in the heat seems unappealing. 

Korra has decided that today is the day she comes clean to Asami. A few weeks ago, fresh out of her conversation with Mr. Sato, the thought would have been ridiculous. She might never land another opportunity like this again, but after spending so much time with Asami (and if she’s honest with herself, developing more affection for the other girl than she’s comfortable with), Korra can’t fathom lying to her any longer. 

Asami is telling Korra an anecdote about an irritating classmate from her university days, and Korra attempts to half-listen as Asami laughs and her bright green eyes shine. She is breathtaking like this, and Korra wishes she could paint Asami how she is now, vibrant and alive.

Asami seems to notice that Korra is distracted and not entirely paying attention. When she speaks, her voice is tinged with concern, like she’s genuinely worried that something is on Korra’s mind.

“Is something wrong?” 

Korra gives her a half smile and looks down at the bench they’re seated on, tracing a finger over a miniscule crack in the marble. She doesn’t have to look up to know that Asami is waiting patiently, ready to give Korra as much time as she needs to speak.

“I need to tell you something,” Korra says, and finally looks up, meeting Asami’s eyes.

There is an unreadable expression on Asami’s face. Her eyes are wide, expectant, almost hopeful, and she is toying with the sleeve of her dress nearly imperceptibly. Korra doesn’t know what to make of it.

“Go ahead, Korra. You can tell me anything,” Asami says gently.

Korra decides to spit it out before the cowardice takes over. “I’m not really here as your walking companion,” she says with some hesitation.

Asami tilts her head in confusion and lets out a timid, nervous laugh. “I don’t understand. You’ve been accompanying me on walks. What are you talking about?”

“Your father hired me to secretly paint a portrait of you. I’ve been observing you during the day and painting at night.” It really doesn’t sound very good when Korra phrases it like that.

“Is this some kind of strange joke?” Asami asks, brow furrowed with confusion, and Korra wishes she could say yes.

“It’s not a joke. I should’ve told you earlier.”

One of the things Korra has grown to admire about Asami is that she’s so emotionally open, so boldly vulnerable in a way Korra doesn’t know how to be. Now is not an exception. Asami’s eyes have already started to fill with tears that she seems to be rapidly trying to blink away.

“You’ve been lying to me?” she asks, her voice cracking. It’s half a question and half an accusation.

“I have,” Korra says. “But I didn’t want to keep lying to you.” She leans forward, tries to take Asami’s hand in her own to give it a comforting squeeze, but Asami jerks back when their skin meets.

“I confided in you. I trusted you. I thought we were friends, Korra.” Asami says, shaking a little. The tears in her watery eyes are dangerously close to spilling down her face.

“We  _ are _ friends,” Korra pleads. “That’s why I had to tell you.”

“No, we’re not. If we were friends, you wouldn’t have lied to me in the first place,” Her tone lowers almost to a whisper, hurt written all over her face. “I thought…I don’t know what I thought.”

Korra watches as the tears finally roll down Asami’s cheeks and feels like crying herself. “Asami, please—” she says, not knowing what she can even say to begin to try to fix things.

Asami stands up abruptly, hands balling resolutely into fists. “No. I don’t want to talk to you right now.” Fixing Korra with one last tear filled glare, she turns around and strides off back to the main path of the garden.

Korra wants to go back to her and do  _ something _ . Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do when the other person storms off in a huff? But she doesn’t know if there’s anything she can do to make Asami understand how remorseful she feels, how she would take all of it back if she could.

Instead, she stays in the garden for a long time, staring blankly at the stone bench and thinking about how she’s maybe lost the only person that really matters.

* * *

That night, Asami doesn’t show up for dinner, despite the fact that they’ve been eating together at 7PM sharp every night for the past several weeks. Korra settles herself in one of the too-big chairs and naively hopes that any moment now Asami will make her way through the double doors of the dining room.

Jinora comes in with a plate of steaming food and sets it in front of Korra with her usual polite detachment. She is about to exit the room when Korra calls out to her.

“Jinora? Do you know where Asami is? We always eat together at this time.”

“She requested that dinner be brought to her room and let me know that she wouldn’t be coming down tonight,” Jinora says, her tone hesitant and apologetic. She gives Korra a small, sympathetic smile.

“Oh,” is all Korra can think of to say. She knows she shouldn’t be surprised but a part of her is disappointed, thought that maybe a few hours to clear the air would be enough.

“Maybe just give her a bit of space,” Jinora advises. Korra knows Jinora’s right, but she doesn’t want space. She wants Asami back so they can fix things.

The younger girl is about to leave again when Korra makes another request. “Can you eat with me tonight, Jinora?” She doesn’t add what she’s thinking— _ I don’t want to be alone— _ but she knows that Jinora understands the unspoken words.

“Okay,” Jinora agrees, seating herself across the table, though Korra knows she normally prefers to eat alone and take the time for herself.

“Thanks,” Korra tells her, beginning to eat. She’s sure the food is delicious, but she isn’t hungry right now. She forces it down anyway, bite by bite, and chats with Jinora about the girl’s family, how long she’s worked at the estate, what she wants to do in the future. They are both careful not to mention Asami.

* * *

The days drag on and Asami continues to refuse to speak to her. Korra doesn’t know what to do with her time so she wanders around Republic City aimlessly, exploring all the nooks and corners she hasn’t had the chance to uncover yet. It isn’t the same without Asami. Korra keeps finding tucked away gardens or outdoor cafes that would be perfect on a sunny day, sees street vendors with little wares or new kinds of food to try, and without fail, her mind always defaults to  _ I can’t wait to tell Asami about this _ . Every time, it hits her again that she doesn’t know when Asami will ever agree to speak to her again. 

Jinora, who Korra’s come to realize is wise beyond her years, seems to sense how distraught Korra is, taking pity on her and eating dinner with her most nights. Their conversation is carefully limited to certain topics of small talk. If Asami has been emerging from her room, Jinora doesn’t let Korra know about it.

Given how reclusive Asami is being, it shouldn’t be a surprise when, a week later, Hiroshi Sato calls Korra into his office to speak with her. She wonders if he’s found out that she told Asami the truth, speculates that maybe he’ll fire her, but can’t really bring herself to care.

“My daughter has been confined to her room much of the past several days. When we last spoke, she said she was fine, but I thought I’d check. Is something wrong?” Sato’s brow is furrowed with concern, but Korra can’t help the wave of resentment that wells up in her. How has it taken him a whole week to notice that something’s wrong? How does he have so little regard for his own daughter’s wishes and wellbeing? She reminds herself bitterly that Sato isn’t the reason Asami is hurt and hidden away in her room. He didn’t force her to take this job. It was her own choice to lie to Asami.

She forces a smile, keeping her tone light, and lies some more. “No, sir. She’s just been feeling a bit faint and under the weather for a few days and she’s getting some extra rest.”

He seems to accept the vague explanation without further question. “I see. I wished to check with you before I departed. I’m taking a business trip for a few weeks. How is the portrait coming along? Do you need any additional supplies?”

The truth is that Korra has thrown a cover over the portrait and tucked it away in a corner of the room, refusing to look at it any further. It’s such a cold, emotionless facsimile of Asami, taunting Korra when she knows its subject is upstairs, within reach yet so far away. Instead, her sketchbook has been filled with countless sketches of Asami—her side profile as she points out her favorite parts of the city, the way her smile spreads across her face with such intense joy as she laughs, even her delicate yet strong and capable hands.

“It’s progressing well,” she says. Sato nods appreciatively but looks as if he expects more details. “A bit more slowly than would be usual, since I’m painting at night without a reference, but I’m getting there.”

“Excellent. I look forward to seeing it once you’re done.” He gives a final curt nod to Korra, lowering his gaze back to a stack of papers on the desk, indicating it’s her cue to leave. She slips out the door and lets out a breath of relief once she’s made it a little bit down the hall.

Korra doesn’t realize how quickly she’s walking, anxious to be back to her room for some privacy, until she barrels straight into Jinora. The younger girl stumbles back a bit, righting herself and readjusting the stack of laundry in her arms. She’s clearly busy at the moment, but Korra’s mind feels too fuzzy to take that into account..

“Jinora, how do I make her talk to me?” Korra asks. Jinora’s eyes widen a little, and Korra realizes how unhinged and desperate she must sound. She takes a step back out of Jinora’s personal space and tries for a half smile that probably looks more like a grimace.

“Asami’s stubborn,” Jinora says simply, shrugging. “You can’t make her talk to you if she doesn’t want to.”

“What do I do? You said to give her space. I tried that.” 

Jinora sighs and ruefully shakes her head, and Korra is oddly reminded of her mother. Senna was always an affectionate and caring parent, but she sometimes gave Korra that same look, the one that said  _ You’re being a handful and I don’t know what to do with you _ .

“She’s hurt, Korra. You can’t put a time limit on that. She’s frustrated that not only would her own father deceive her, but so did the person she considered her closest friend.” It’s the first time they’ve talked about the situation in any detail, and Korra realizes that Asami must have confided in Jinora about what’s going on. 

“I just wish I could take it all back,” Korra says, willing Jinora to understand. “Asami is the last person in the world I would ever want to hurt.”

“I know. I just don’t think she knows that. My advice? Show her you’re sorry. Make sure she understands how much you care.”

“I’ll try. I’ll try anything to make it right,” Korra swears, and she means it.


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I was excited to share so this one's a day early. I hope to get chapter 4 out early as well, but at the latest it will be posted by next Saturday. Lots of love! Thank you so much to those of you who have bookmarked/subscribed/left kudos etc, it means the world.

Korra knocks three times in rapid succession on Asami’s door, taking a step back from the entryway to wait patiently. She hears light, rapid footsteps on the other side, that pause for a moment before Asami acknowledges her.

“Hello?”

“Asami? Can we talk?” Korra asks. There is another long silence before Asami opens the door just a sliver and pokes her head out. She stares at Korra, as if sizing up an opponent, before answering. 

“Fine,” she finally says, opening the door all the way. “Come in. I’m only talking to you because Jinora asked me to.”

Korra laughs nervously as she steps inside, the sound seeming to echo around the room. Asami’s face is still stony and cold. “Thank goodness for Jinora, I guess.” She remembers the bouquet of flowers she’s holding in her left hand, held together by a piece of twine, and lifts them up to show Asami. “These are for you.” 

“Thank you. I’ll find something to put them in.” Asami’s face softens the slightest amount, as if she’s trying to keep up an angry facade but the flowers have melted her somehow. She takes the flowers from Korra and busies herself finding a vase, avoiding Korra’s eyes. Korra stands rooted in her same place on the floor, unsure of whether she should sit somewhere or not. 

As Asami pulls a vase out of one of the many cabinets in her too-large bedroom, she seems to look down at the black and white flowers and really see them for the first time. “Korra, is this a panda lily?” She asks incredulously. “These only grow on Mount Makapu.”

“I took a day trip,” Korra says, shrugging and fidgeting with discomfort under Asami’s intense stare.

“You took a day trip and climbed a volcano...to get me flowers?” It’s a question and a statement of fact in one, and Korra considers it as Asami continues to stare at her, barely blinking, from across the room.

“It was nothing,” she finally answers.

It wasn’t nothing, and they both know it. The panda lily is rare, valuable, special. There’s a reason it’s a traditional symbol of winning over a lover; the trek to the top of the volcano to pick it is difficult and dangerous and few people would risk the journey even for someone they cared about very much. Despite Korra’s unusual level of fitness and her determination to find a grand gesture of apology to show Asami how much she cared, her muscles were still burning excruciatingly by the time she reached the top. The residual soreness in her legs still bothers her now and probably will for several days.

Asami is no stranger to the implications and significance of the panda lily, but she doesn’t say anything more, just finds a vase for the flowers, settles into an armchair, and waits for Korra to continue. Her dress is the same vibrant scarlet that Korra has seen before, but simpler and less adorned than her usual clothes. Korra can’t help thinking that positioned like this, posture regal and face impassive, she looks like a queen.

Korra doesn’t know what to say, so to fill the silence, she keeps talking. “I had some downtime while you weren’t talking to me.”

In an instant, Asami’s face hardens again and her tone turns chilly, biting. “Really? You weren’t too preoccupied doing the actual job my dad apparently hired you for?”

Korra sighs, not knowing how to defend herself when Asami’s anger clearly stems from a place of hurt and betrayal. The ache of regret in her chest that’s been plaguing her for over a week now flares up again as she finds another chair in the room, pulling it over and across from where Asami is seated.    


“Please believe me when I say that I never wanted to hurt you,” Korra tells her. “I hate that I lied to you for so long, and I’d do anything to take it back.”

“Then why did you?” Asami asks, the icy facade crumbling all at once, hurt written across her face. “You and my father both lied to me. All  _ he _ cares about is getting me married off, and here I was, naive enough to believe that he actually wanted me to have companionship and happiness.” The words tumble out in a rush and she takes a deep breath before continuing. “And what about you, Korra? I don’t even know what you care about, why you’d do this to me.”

“I’m a painter,” Korra answers simply. “My own father painted your mother’s portrait in her youth. I thought this job would be my only chance to start to establish myself as an artist outside of his shadow.”

“So you’re saying you used this as an opportunity to get ahead,” Asami says flatly.

“I did,” Korra admits.

“That’s not really it, though, is it?” Asami asks. Korra stares at her quizzically, narrowing her eyes, and tries to figure out where Asami is going with this. “You used me as a means to an end, yes, and that’s partly why I’m hurt. But you also hid such a large part of yourself from me. Your whole identity and your dreams. All the times I thought I was getting to know you, getting something  _ real _ , you weren’t being honest with me.”

Korra takes a long moment to process what Asami’s just explained to her. “I guess you’re right. I hadn’t really thought about it like that. I guess I just thought I was doing what I had to do to keep my job, but you were being open with me about yourself in a way that I didn’t reciprocate.”

“Yes,” Asami says softly, looking down at her hands. Tears are welling up in her eyes, and Korra can tell she is trying hard to control herself, avoid crying again. Korra hates that she’s made Asami feel like she can’t be vulnerable in front of her anymore. “That’s exactly it.”

“I made some horrible mistakes. I was dishonest with you even though I knew it was wrong, because I wanted to get ahead. But I don’t care about that anymore,” Korra says, choosing her words with an uncharacteristic carefulness. “I just care about you, and your….friendship. What you mean to me.”

Asami finally seems to relax a little, letting up her stiff posture. “I’m glad you told me. I wish you’d told me earlier, but thanks for coming clean about it.”

“Again, I’m so sorry,” Korra says, hoping Asami understands just how deeply she means it. “I never would’ve taken this job if I’d realized how it would hurt you. If you don’t want to be friends again, I understand. Regardless, I’ll tender my resignation to your father immediately.”

“I do want to,” Asami says quickly, as soon as Korra has finished speaking.

“What?” Korra asks her, bewildered as to what she’s responding to.

“I do want to be friends.” Asami looks down at her lap as if nervous, looking up shyly at Korra through her thick eyelashes. “I missed you while we weren’t talking, you know.”

“I missed you too. More than I thought I could miss anybody.”

Asami smiles. “Friends again, then. And you don’t have to resign. I want you to stay. But I have two conditions.”

“Of course,” Korra says. “Anything you need.” She’s fairly certain that nothing Asami asks of her will be too much. The way Asami is looking at her right now, with affection and openness after more than a week of silence between them, Korra would climb a volcano for her a hundred times over, let the mythical spirit Koh take her face,  _ anything _ .

“First, no more secrets,” Asami says firmly. “I want you to be honest with me from now on.”

“Absolutely. I promise I won’t keep anything else from you,” Korra readily agrees.

“Good. Second, I want to see the portrait. I’m curious.”

That was the last thing Korra was expecting Asami to ask for, but it’s not a difficult or harmful request at all. It just catches her off guard. “If you’re sure,” she says, and Asami nods her assent. 

* * *

In Korra’s room, they take the sheet off of the portrait together and step back to look at it. The painting looks foreign, alien, to Korra right now, and she supposes it’s because she’s refused to look at it since Asami spoke to her last.

“Here it is,” Korra offers up, already nervous and uncomfortable as she watches Asami scrutinize the painting. She’s not sure why showing Asami her art, something she normally would take pride in, is making her so anxious that her palms are wet and her heartbeat is rapid.

“Hmmm,” is all Asami says. Her face is unreadable. She leans in a little closer to survey specific details of the portrait, but doesn’t say anything else.

Korra is patient for as long as possible, trying to suss out Asami’s expression on her own, but the curiosity finally gets to her. “What are you thinking? What does that look mean?”

“I don’t like it,” Asami says apologetically. 

“What?” Korra asks, trying not to be offended. It’s not that she thinks her work is above criticism, it’s just that she’s unaccustomed to that criticism coming from anyone other than herself or her father, let alone Asami.

“Sorry,” Asami quickly follows up. “You’re a very talented artist. I don’t mean to insult your skills.”

“Can you tell me why you don’t like it?”

Asami turns to Korra, fixing her analytical gaze on Korra instead of the painting. “Korra, is this really how you see me?”

“I don’t understand.”

“I look docile. Placid. There’s no life in it,” Asami says with disdain.

Korra fights back a biting response.  _ I didn’t know you were an art critic _ . The truth is that Asami’s response is exactly what’s been bothering her about the painting, the reason she’s been so reluctant to accept that it’s finished. “Oh. No, of course I don’t see you like that. It’s just a little difficult to paint from memory.”

“Right. I see,” Asami concedes, although her lips are still pursed just enough that Korra knows she’s still bothered by it. “I didn’t mean to insult your work, Korra.”

“I know. It’s just hard to capture those fleeting moments that give it any life.”

Asami gives the portrait one last, searching glance, and mulls Korra’s words over for a moment. “Alright. I’ll pose for you.”

Korra is unsure if she heard this right. “You...what?”

“I don’t want to make your job more difficult than it already is, and there’s no sense in delaying the inevitable, I suppose. I’ll pose for my portrait so you have a reference. Might as well do it right if it’s to be done at all.”

“If you’re certain,” Korra tells her, although she can tell Asami’s already made up her mind. She gives the other girl a smile. “Thank you. This means so much.”

Korra pushes down the swirl of emotions that rise up in her chest. The artist in her is relieved that she has the chance to do this over again in a way that will come closer to capturing Asami’s being. She’s honored that Asami would agree to do this for her but none of the painters who came before. At the same time, she doesn’t like that Asami seems to have become totally resigned to what she calls “the inevitable,” her fate as a nobleman’s wife. Of course, Korra is complicit in bringing about that fate, but somehow she’d hoped Asami would continue to put up a fight.

Mostly, she’s just happy that they’re speaking again.

* * *

Korra soon finds that painting Asami might be her new favorite activity. She can still get lost in her work, with an intense focus that overwhelms her unlike much else, but it’s even better when punctuated by an occasional smile or witty remark from Asami. Of course, it helps to have a reference while she’s painting, too.

Asami reads most of the time while Korra works on a brand new version of the portrait. It’s not ideal to have a subject who is looking down much of the time, but Korra knows it can be uncomfortable and incredibly boring to sit still in the same position hour after hour with no entertainment, and she’d rather Asami be comfortable than have a perfect reference. 

Sometimes, Korra looks up from her work to get a better look at Asami, about to ask the other girl to look up and tilt her chin for a moment, and Asami is already looking up from her book, staring at Korra instead. She studies Korra up and down, sometimes with the tiniest hint of a smirk, and Korra relishes in it. She doesn’t think anyone has ever watched her, ever really seen her, so completely.

* * *

Korra and Asami start spending time with Jinora on occasion during the days that follow. They enjoy spending time together, just the two of them, but the truth is that they spend most of the day on their own. Sometimes it’s nice to have another person to talk to, and Jinora is mature and intelligent for her age.

Some evenings, after Jinora makes dinner and the three of them eat together, they stay up late into the night talking and sharing stories from their respective cultures. One night, after Korra has wrapped up a particularly dramatic retelling of her favorite Water Tribe legend, Asami interjects. “My turn now,” she says, her cheeks still rosy from laughter at Korra’s tales. “You’re both familiar with the story of the Cave of Two Lovers, right?”

“Of course,” Jinora says, as if it’s obvious.

“No, what’s that?” Korra asks simultaneously.

Asami smiles at Korra. Korra has gotten pretty good at reading what Asami’s little smiles mean, and right now she seems half-surprised, half-excited that she’ll get to tell the story to someone who’s never heard it. “It’s a popular legend around here. My mother used it as a bedtime story sometimes, when I was young.” Asami rarely brings up her mother, and Korra is encouraged that she seems to again be at that level of comfort sharing parts of her past. 

“Tell us about it,” Korra urges.

“Once, a long, long time ago, there were two warring towns separated by a mountain. A man from one of the towns and a woman from the other met atop the mountain one day by chance, and they fell in love.”

“ _ Two lovers, forbidden from one another _ ,” Jinora begins to sing. Korra’s never heard the song before, but it follows the same story Asami just started. “ _ A war divides their people, and a mountain divides them apart _ .” Her voice fits her well: it’s soft, lilting, quiet without any timidness.

“Thank you, Jinora,” Asami says, laughing, not at all perturbed by the interruption. “Your voice is lovely.” She turns to Korra, explaining. “That’s a popular folk song based on the story. I was thinking of it too, but I’m not quite so confident in my singing voice.”

“It’s a nice song,” Korra says, giving Jinora a supportive smile.

“Anyways, the two lovers wanted to keep meeting, so they created a system of tunnels through the mountains, learning to move earth by watching the badger moles there. One day, the man didn’t show up, because he had been killed in the war between their two towns.”

“This was your bedtime story as a child?” Korra asks, smirking at her. “Seems a little dark.”

Asami kicks her lightly under the table, a knowing look on her face. “Like  _ you _ wouldn’t tell stories full of fighting and death to children? I know you better than that, Korra.” Jinora tries and fails to stifle her laughter.

She has a point, and Korra shrugs. “That’s fair. Continue.”

“There’s a happy ending. In her fury over her lover’s death, the woman became incredibly powerful, her ability to move earth even stronger than before. She could have destroyed both towns, but she chose to put an end to the conflict instead, uniting the two villages.” Asami’s voice is earnest, her eyes shining, and Korra knows better than to attempt another wisecrack.

“Good for her for choosing peace, I suppose,” Korra muses. “I’m not sure I could make that same choice if someone I loved was hurt.”

Asami hums a little in consideration, leaning across the table and resting her chin on her hand. “I like to think that she did it not for the sake of the people who killed the man she loved, but because it’s what he would’ve wanted. To honor his memory.”

Korra thinks that the story ended how it did because whoever came up with it didn’t want to end on a bad note, and that maybe it’s a little moralistic---give back and heal the society that hurt you instead of rebelling. She keeps those opinions to herself, because she adores how Asami seems dreamily lost in thought, how she looks up and to the side when she’s thinking, the soft hint of a smile that plays on her lips when she thinks about something she enjoys. Korra wouldn’t mess that up for anything.

“Tell her about the labyrinth,” Jinora says to Asami, eyes wide.

“Labyrinth?” Korra asks, intrigued. She accidentally bumps her leg against Asami’s under the table and jerks it back, unsure why she feels her cheeks flushing.

Asami seems unaffected and continues with the story. “The legend continues on to say that under that same mountain, there is a labyrinth of constantly moving tunnels protected by a curse. Those who put their trust in love can navigate through the maze, but those who don’t will be lost forever.”

“I guess whoever wrote this was a romantic,” Korra muses, idly wondering whether she’d make it through the maze. She likes to think she would, even if she can be a cynic at times.

“You’re right, it is a pretty romantic story,” Jinora agrees. “Especially the trust in love part. I’ve always wondered what that really means.”

Korra elbows her playfully. “You should ask Kai what he thinks.” She and Asami have noticed that Jinora has been getting friendly with the young gardener who comes to tend the grounds a few times a week and they pass up no opportunities to tease her about it.

“You have to trust in it a little, right?” Asami says. She’s responding to Jinora, but her eyes are locked with Korra’s. “To fall in love in the first place, you have to take a kind of dive.” Her knee bumps against Korra’s leg under the table again, but this time, neither girl moves away. “You know what I mean?”

Korra thinks she knows.


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Expect a final update in a week or less! Thank you to everyone who's been with me through this story so far.

The air has shifted between them somehow, although Korra can’t pinpoint when or why. She continues painting Asami, and day by day, Asami’s intense stares back at her when she’s working start to affect her more and more. It’s to the point where sometimes she leaves the room for a moment to get some fresh air, claiming it’s stuffy. 

If Asami is aware of the effect her presence has on Korra, she doesn’t let on, although Korra thinks maybe she’s started to stand extra close and leave some extra lingering touches on purpose. Korra just can’t figure out why. Maybe the other girl just thinks it’s amusing to see her flustered.

Korra is diligently attempting to work on capturing the beauty of Asami’s jaw and high cheekbones in her portrait when Asami, who has been unusually fidgety and energetic for much of their session today, interjects.

“Let’s go for a walk,” she says, seemingly out of nowhere. “It’s a beautiful day outside. If you can make the time, of course.”

“I’d love to,” Korra answers, perplexed but happy to oblige. Asami’s face breaks into a sunny smile.

* * *

Maybe it’s just the uncharacteristic humidity today, or her blood sugar is low from not eating enough earlier, but Korra thinks the atmosphere around them seems oddly charged as they walk across the city together. It almost sends a shock up and down Korra’s spine every time their shoulders bump. Asami insists on going to one of the parks that’s further away than they’d normally walk to, although she doesn’t offer much of an explanation for why.

They keep up their usual banter on the way over, although Korra’s mind feels like it’s so jumbled up with thoughts and feelings and sensations that she can’t make sense of any of it. That’s happening more and more lately.

The park Asami’s chosen for today is secluded and as far as Korra can see, devoid of any other visitors. They meander around a bit, Asami pointing out flowers she likes or offering up obscure information she remembers from her university days, on how the city’s water system reaches the parks. It borders on nervous rambling.

She pauses rather suddenly as they reach a large, shady tree in the corner of the park, turning to Korra and looking at her intently with wide eyes. Korra is as confused as she’s been all morning but stops walking to give Asami her full attention, looking up at her.

“Korra...I wanted to bring you to my favorite part of this park, to tell you something,” Asami says, tucking a long strand of silky, dark hair behind her ear. Korra assumes she’s going to continue, but she stays silent, as if waiting for Korra to prompt her.

“What is it?” Korra asks gently. “Asami, we’re friends, you can tell me anything.”

In an instant, Asami’s face turns dark, closed off, and she lowers her gaze from Korra’s. She fiddles with the sleeves of her dress and lets out a nervous laugh. “Actually, never mind. I don’t know what came over me. I’m being ridiculous. Just forget I said anything at all.”

Korra likes taking risks. It was part of the appeal of athletic competition for her back home, and what made her move halfway across the world, far from her family and friends, for this job. She likes the adrenaline rush she gets from not knowing the outcome of a situation and still picking a decisive action. She likes when taking a risk pays off and she sees the reward.

Taking the biggest risk of her life, she steps forward, closer to Asami, and asks, “Can I kiss you?”

Asami’s face lights up in a way that gives Korra the only answer she really needs, but she confirms it anyway. “Yes, please.”

Korra stands slightly on her toes and cups Asami’s face with her left hand, wrapping her other arm around the girl’s shoulders to draw her in closer. She kisses Asami, tentatively at first. Asami’s lips are as soft as they look, parting slightly as Korra deepens the kiss.

Korra pulls away just barely, enough to see the dazed, happy look on Asami’s face, and tries to summon up as much swagger and confidence as she can. She ignores the fact that kissing Asami for just a few seconds has made her knees wobbly. “Is that what you wanted to tell me?” she asks, smirking.

“Yes,” Asami says, her voice breathy and fervent. “That’s exactly what I wanted to say.” She puts her hands on Korra’s waist, her long, lithe fingers trailing over Korra’s hips, and kisses her again. It’s hungrier this time, less delicate and slow, and she pulls Korra’s body flush against her own.

When they finally break apart, Asami beams down at her, looking a little less put together than she normally presents herself. There is a heat centered in Korra’s lower abdomen and the apex between her legs throbs a little. She wonders if Asami is feeling the same thing.

They didn’t kiss for more than a few minutes, at most, but Korra feels like it was both far too short and also something she can keep for eternity. That moment, for her, of  _ Asami’s lips on hers, Asami’s hands encircling her waist, Asami’s soft body pushed up against her own _ , will be with her forever, like a fossil preserved in amber. 

Korra tries to calm her breathing, get control over the physiological response she’s having, but she can’t dampen the pure euphoria that’s rising up in her and only intensifying as she continues to stand here with Asami. She grabs Asami’s hand, partly to have some excuse to keep touching the other girl, partly to ground herself. Asami’s hands are warm, rough, and surprisingly callused. 

Asami squeezes her hand back, interlacing their fingers and smiling down at Korra. “Let’s walk around a bit more,” she says, and Korra nods, still feeling like she’s not quite ready to formulate sentences.

They roam around the park a while longer, and Korra revels in the feeling of their hands intertwined and the warm breeze against her skin. They talk idly about the flowers and greenery in the park, Asami surprisingly knowledgeable about all the plants Korra’s never seen before, and Korra makes up wild stories about the shapes she sees in the clouds above them. Mostly, Korra just leans into the sensation of Asami’s thumb caressing her hand and loses herself in the melodic cadence of Asami’s voice.

* * *

“Will you come to bed with me?” Asami says that night.

Korra is taken aback, although not at all disinterested. She just didn’t expect that whatever  _ this _ is would lead into  _ that _ so soon. Her cheeks heat up and she must look dismayed, because Asami clarifies almost immediately.

“Just to sleep, I mean,” she says emphatically. “Not that, not just yet, but I want your face to be the first thing I see when I wake up.” Asami looks away as if embarrassed and her cheeks flush pink. 

It’s a sweet sentiment, so tenderly romantic that Korra’s chest aches, and Korra steps forward to take her hand and give her a brief kiss on the cheek. “Of course, Asami.”

Korra returns to the guest room to change into a thin blue nightgown, which she hopes makes her look sexy and alluring and not like a child dwarfed in too much fabric. The new, in-progress portrait of Asami stares at her from the corner of the room, still unfinished yet so much livelier than its first iteration. Korra imagines for a second that there is the smallest hint of mischief, of knowing amusement, in Portrait-Asami’s eyes. 

She makes her way back to Asami’s room, where Asami is waiting in bed, idly reading a book. Her long hair is pulled back in a neat French braid to sleep. Korra studies the planes and angles of Asami’s face, even more pronounced than usual with Asami’s hair back and the room lit only by flickering candlelight. 

Asami smiles and pats the empty space in the bed next to her, beckoning Korra over. Korra nestles under the covers and into Asami’s side, relishing in how Asami’s thumb traces small circles against Korra’s shoulder blade as they lie together. 

“Good night, Korra,” Asami finally whispers, placing a feather-light kiss on Korra’s forehead. “Thank you for today.” She shifts a little so she’s facing the other direction but so that Korra is still wrapped around her.

“Good night,” Korra whispers back.

Minutes or hours elapse; Korra isn’t sure. Korra’s heart beats so quickly and intensely that she thinks it might escape from her chest, but next to her, Asami’s breathing is soft and even. Korra tries to stay perfectly still so as not to disturb her. She wonders if she’ll be able to sleep at all. It’s not that she feels unsafe, or uncomfortable — Korra thinks that Asami might actually be the only person she’s ever been really and truly comfortable around. But how can she be expected to sleep when the most radiant human being she’s ever encountered is lying next to her? How can she calm down her breathing when Asami’s warm body is pressed up to her own, when she knows that she’s the only person so privileged right now to be in bed with someone this phenomenal?

Eventually, she does drift off, succumbing to her exhaustion, but the simultaneous thrill and terror of being  _ here _ with Asami doesn’t leave her. It makes its way into Korra’s dreams.

_ Korra is in a hallway _ _ — _ _ there are no particular descriptors on the walls or anywhere else that indicate exactly where she is, but the only place she’s ever been that is this upscale is the Sato Estate. Somehow, she can see, even though there is no clear light source and it should be pitch black all around her. She begins to walk down the hallway, but even though she can see her feet making progress, it’s as if she isn’t actually moving: the hallway just stretches further and further with no end in sight.  _

_ Suddenly, with no warning, it’s as if Korra is stuck in place. She struggles to move her legs, to keep walking just to prove to herself that she can, but they’re frozen, unreachable. A door (which she is nearly certain that she didn’t see mere moments ago) off the side of the hallway opens, and out walks Asami as Korra has never seen her.  _

_ Asami is wearing a wedding dress, a beautiful, ornate work of white silk that laces tight over her torso and flows into a voluminous skirt down to the floor, complete with a long train that drags behind her. Her face is shrouded in a veil that flutters around her as if lifted by an unseen breeze. She holds a bouquet of panda lilies. _

_ “Hello, Korra,” she says, her voice clear as day, although Korra can’t see her lips moving. Korra attempts to answer Asami, to provide an affirmation that she’s been heard, but she can’t shape the words in her mouth. It’s as if her mouth is as locked as her legs.  _

_ “We won’t be forever, you know,” Asami says to Korra. It’s a warning. She turns and begins to walk away, gown trailing after her, posture rigid and uncomfortable, as if she’s in a funeral procession. Korra wants to call after Asami, plead with the other girl to stay, but the more noise she tries to make, the more frozen and silent she becomes. Asami trails off into the distance of the apparently endless hallway without a single look back. Korra continues to attempt to struggle and thrash against her invisible bonds, summoning up a scream in the back of her throat even if her lips won’t move, desperate to chase Asami down and prevent her from leaving. _

“Korra, are you okay?” comes a soft voice from slightly above her. Korra opens her eyes to a concerned and disturbed looking Asami sitting up in bed, looking down at her. “You were moving around quite a bit and even whimpering.”

“Just a dream I was having,” Korra explains, choosing not to elaborate on the particulars. “I’m sorry I woke you up, Asami.”

Asami strokes Korra’s cheek with her thumb. “You have nothing to worry about, my dear.” Something inside Korra goes warm and soft at the pet name. “I probably would have woken up anyway.” Asami holds her until they’re breathing in tandem and both of them fall back asleep. Korra’s subconscious seems to have grown bored of tormenting her for the time being and allows her to fall into a deep, peaceful slumber.

* * *

Korra wakes up well rested but when she rolls over to sling an arm over Asami to cuddle, she’s mildly alarmed to find that the other girl isn’t in bed next to her. Her eyes are bleary from sleep and her head is fuzzy, and although she knows Asami probably has a perfectly good reason to be elsewhere at the moment, she’s still the smallest bit anxious. She reassures herself with the mental reminder that Asami was the one who asked her to spend the night in the first place.

Even so, her dream unnerved her. Korra doesn’t have to think very hard on what the dream meant — Asami is escaping her as soon as they’ve found each other, so quickly after they’ve begun. It’s not like they didn’t know that yesterday, when they both took the plunge to show how they felt about each other, but Korra is all too aware that their relationship is a ticking time bomb, counting down to the moment when Asami is taken from her and married off to some nobleman across the world.

_ Maybe it’s better to let go sooner rather than later _ , Korra thinks, and promptly abandons the thought as Asami, clad in a scarlet slip and matching silk bathrobe, reenters the room with two cups of tea. Her hair is still in its braid, although several tendrils have fallen out to frame her face, and her face is slightly pale, almost younger, without her typical makeup. She is beautiful like this, soft and exposed, the morning light dancing in patterns on her face, although Korra supposes she is beautiful in basically any iteration.

“Good morning,” Asami says. “I didn’t want to leave you, but I heard you stirring and wanted to make some tea for you before you woke up. I guess my timing was a bit off.” She gives Korra a sheepish smile and perches herself on the edge of the bed next to Korra’s legs.

Korra lifts herself up to drape herself over Asami, hugging her from behind and pressing a soft kiss to the back of her neck. “Thank you, ‘Sami,” she says, taking one of the teacups for herself. 

_ It doesn’t matter if we don’t have forever _ , Korra thinks to herself.  _ She’s with me now, isn’t she? _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will probably include a sex scene and tags and rating will be updated to reflect that!


	5. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A couple notes: rating has been changed to mature because this chapter includes a few paragraphs of a moderately explicit but pretty brief sex scene. This story was going to be five chapters, but the way I concluded it, it feels odd to have the final scene as part of Chapter Five, so it will be posted in a couple days as an epilogue. If for some reason you just want to be sad or you think that happy endings are unrealistic/cheesy, you’re welcome to treat the end of this chapter as the end of the story :)  
> As always, thank you to all of you who have read and interacted with this work. It’s made writing my first Korrasami fic a true pleasure and I appreciate each one of you more than I can say.

The portrait is finished, if Korra is being honest with herself. In terms of both technical accuracy and the work’s merit as a whole, it is far superior to her first attempt. But every day, she buries her head in the sand and insists that there’s still more to be done. Shadows to heighten, details to touch up, miniscule errors to correct. Anything to continue having an excuse to watch how Asami’s skin glows in the sun as she poses.

They continue their sessions for the portrait by day, accompanied by long walks and adventures through the city, dinner with Jinora, and sleeping in the same bed at night. Jinora has obviously figured out that something is going on—if the sappy, lovestruck way Korra knows the two of them are acting doesn’t give it away, sharing a bedroom probably does—but minds her business, other than a hint of a smile on the occasion she catches them holding hands. It’s paradise, if paradise was accompanied by the knowledge that perfection can’t go on forever.

Korra knows that the day this ends for them is the day Hiroshi Sato returns from his business trip. She will give him the portrait, receive payment, say goodbye, and move on. Lately, she has no idea what moving on will look like.

* * *

Korra and Asami lie in bed, facing one another, after another day of the simple but joyful routine they’ve embraced. Korra is exhausted, but in the best possible way. She wishes every day could end like this: the two of them closing out the day together.

Asami inches forward just a little so their noses are touching. There is pure wonder in her eyes, like Korra is the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen, and Korra suspects the same feeling is reflected across her own face. The two of them move to bridge the distance between them almost simultaneously, lips meeting lips, for just an instant. Asami pulls back and Korra worries she’s going to stop things, decide it’s all been a terrible mistake, but she just smiles with a sunny warmth that Korra wishes she could bottle up and save forever. Their lips meet again, harder this time, and Asami’s mouth parts to allow Korra entrance.

Korra finally pulls away and just enjoys the feeling of Asami’s eyes locked on her own for a while. They lie in companionable silence for a long time, Asami’s eyes fluttering as she begins to drift off. Asami’s hand strokes Korra’s back even as she grows sleepier, sending warmth up and down Korra’s spine. Their bodies are at ease, melting into one another, but Korra can’t calm the thoughts that have been plaguing her more and more as of late.

“Asami, can I ask you a question?” Korra says, trying to keep the worry out of her voice.

“Mmm,” Asami responds sleepily. It’s vaguely affirmative enough that Korra continues.

“Are you content?”

“Here with you? Absolutely,” she says, smiling lazily, eyes still half shut. Her hand continues to trace its patterns on Korra’s back.

“That’s not what I meant,” Korra says gently, although she thinks Asami might already know.

“Oh?” is all Asami responds, her eyes fully open now. She breaks away from Korra’s embrace for a moment to stretch her arms elegantly and sit up. The gesture reminds Korra of a cat. 

“I mean, are you content with your future,” Korra explains. “Getting married off to a nobleman somewhere.”

Asami takes a long time to respond, and the silence that falls between the two of them is almost suffocating. She stares at some invisible point on the wall of her room, pointedly not looking at Korra, when she finally answers. “No, I’m not,” she says, as though reluctant to admit it. “But what choice do I have, Korra? I only ever felt like I could delay the process. At this point, it’s just a matter of time for me.” There is bitterness in her voice, a tinge of anger. 

Korra knows that anger isn’t directed at her, necessarily, but she curses herself for having brought it up in the first place. She’s burst their bubble, reintroduced the fears and inevitabilities of the outside world, and the worst part is that there is nothing she can say to make it better. The silence that stretches between them as Korra searches for the right words feels heavy and painful.

“I’m sorry,” she says finally, wrapping her arms around Asami’s neck and pulling her close.

They fall asleep wrapped up in each other, but the warmth of Asami’s smooth skin in contact with Korra’s own isn’t enough to ward off the dreams.

_ They are back in the hallway, Asami in her wedding dress again. “It’s a matter of time,” Asami says, and the words echo over and over again, bouncing off of the walls and each other, getting louder and louder as the seconds pass. _

_ “It’s a matter of time,” the walls repeat. The sound multiplies on itself, dissolving into a cacophony of words that can barely be distinguished from one another. Korra tries to place her hands over her ears, block it out, but the noise is relentless. _

_ “Goodbye, Korra,” Asami says, voice not quite her own, stalking off into the dark. Korra tries to run after her, but all too soon, she is gone and everything is deathly silent. _

* * *

To Korra’s chagrin, the dreams persist, night after night. There are slight variations, as if her subconscious is trying to keep her on her toes. Sometimes the floor will crumble beneath her. Sometimes there is blood on the walls or her body is immobilized. But every time Asami is there, looking stunning in her wedding dress, and she says something to remind Korra that there is an end.

After one such nightmare that ends in Korra suffocating, unable to take in any air, after Asami kisses her, Korra wakes up abruptly. Her skin is mildly sticky and damp with sweat and she’s sure her hair must be a mess, but she only hesitates for a moment before lightly shaking Asami awake.

Asami blinks, disoriented, and murmurs a slurred, “Korra, is everything okay? It’s the middle of the night.” She props herself up on her elbow and leans toward Korra as she wakes up further.

Korra interlaces their fingers and squeezes Asami’s hand with a smile. “Maybe this sounds crazy, but I had to ask. What if we ran away together, just the two of us? We could build a life together.” She has not been planning this line of conversation—any future between the two of them, prior to right now, had stretched as a great, blank expanse in Korra’s mind—but the idea materializes as the words rush out. 

Korra’s hopes are dashed as she watches Asami absorb the proposal, her face filling with the deepest sadness Korra has ever witnessed. It is a long time before she speaks, and when she does, her voice is pained. “I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“This isn’t a fairy tale, Korra!” Asami says firmly, pushing herself up to a sitting position on the bed. “I have duties, responsibilities. I can’t just run away from it all like that.”

“I understand,” Korra says softly, squeezing Asami’s hand again. She knows she’ll never really comprehend where Asami is coming from—after all, everything she’s ever wanted has conveniently lined up with her family’s plans for her too. And she’s aware from personal experience that Hiroshi Sato is not an easy man to defy.

“I’m sorry,” Asami whispers.

“You don’t need to apologize to me,” Korra tells her. “But I need you to know something. It’s okay if you can’t or won’t return the sentiment. I love you.”

Asami’s response is quicker, easier, more fluid than Korra would have ever expected. “I love you too. Of course I do,” she says, as if it’s a simple fact. Her face falls again, and she looks down at the blanket that still covers both their legs. “But that doesn’t change the fact that I can’t run away with you. That’s just not in the cards for me.”

A lump forms in Korra’s throat and she nods, trying to push down the hurt that threatens to rise up and overpower her. Her willpower isn’t enough to stop the tears that begin to roll down her cheeks.

Then there are lips, Asami’s wonderfully smooth mouth, kissing all over Korra’s face, feather light over her cheeks and eyelids and nose and chin. Asami strokes Korra’s hair, pushing it back from her face, and looks at her intently. Their faces are inches apart.

“I’m here with you right now,” Asami says. Her green eyes are fierce and sad and full of some other emotion that Korra can’t place. “I’m here, and I love you, and I want you. I want all of you.” The words spark a warmth in Korra’s abdomen, a familiar pulse between her legs.  _ Want. Asami’s eyes are filled with want. _ “Is that enough?”

“It’s something,” Korra breathes, moving to sit atop Asami. She bends down to press a searing kiss on Asami’s lips and to brush her hair out of her face. The kiss is rough and needy and indelicate and she succumbs to the feeling of it all, as Asami’s hands tangle in her hair and ghost over her waist. 

She slips her nightdress over her head and throws it across the room without a care, and Asami shifts to follow suit with her own. Korra typically wears bindings around her breasts, and Asami makes quick work of unwrapping them, her attention rapt on Korra’s chest. Once everything is off, both of them bare in the pale moonlight that fills Asami’s room, they each take a moment to catch their breath, Korra taking in the glory that is Asami’s body. She wonders whether she should perhaps become a sculptor instead of a painter, anything to replicate the beauty in front of her, but any semblance of coherent thought is lost when Asami’s lips meet hers once again.

Korra’s nimble fingers trace Asami’s collarbone, make their way down her taut abdomen, and reach her pubic bone, finding a thatch of downy hair as thick and silky as that on Asami’s head. A little lower and she’s met with a warmth and wetness that sets her own insides alight. Her finger slips in easily, and although she’s never done this before, Asami vocalizes with soft whines and moans that let her know exactly what she’s doing right or wrong. Korra carefully adds another finger and uses her thumb to add some extra external friction. She presses kisses down Asami’s neck, and keeps up her rhythmic motions even as her hand tires and aches.

An additional crook of Korra’s fingers and Asami is crying out louder than before. Korra increases her pace until Asami’s body tenses, writhes, and then collapses, boneless, on the bed. She presses a light kiss to Asami’s forehead and watches as her breathing slowly returns to normal.

Asami is clearly worn out, but a few minutes later, she is all too ready to return the favor. Her mouth makes its way down lower and lower, and with no preamble her lips and tongue are doing things more pleasurable than Korra ever dreamed of. Korra is already worked up, and it doesn’t take much longer for Asami to bring her to her peak. “I love you,” she breathes, closing her eyes as Asami guides her down from the most powerful sensation she has ever experienced.

Both spent, they curl up into each other under the warm blankets, and Korra is finally treated to a few hours of uninterrupted, dreamless sleep.

* * *

The day inevitably comes when Hiroshi Sato makes his return. He is cheery, in good spirits, although Korra isn’t sure if that can be attributed to a successful business trip or simply the opportunity to get away from home for a bit. His presence puts a damper on the energy of the house, even Jinora seeming to have to force herself to smile and keep her tone warm, but he doesn’t appear to notice that anything is off.

Asami hugs her father hello, perfunctorily asks him polite questions about how his trip went, and offers vague answers as to her own well-being before making a quick retreat back to her own room. Jinora makes herself scarce as well.

Mr. Sato turns to Korra, and she knows he is expecting to see the portrait. She guides him to her room where the portrait is still sequestered and pulls off the cloth covering it with a flourish. He surveys it for a long time, leaning in to examine small details of the painting, in an analytical and detached way that reminds Korra of how Asami examined the first portrait.

When he finally steps back, he is smiling, lines around his eyes crinkling. “This is wonderful, Korra. I’ll have it sent off soon.” He rummages around in his pocket for a moment.

“Thank you, sir.”

“You’ve managed to really capture the essence of my daughter,” he says, counting out money for Korra’s payment. It’s the highest praise she can get as an artist, but she can’t help but feel she’s sold out or further betrayed Asami. 

“Thank you,” she says, slipping the money into her pocket. It’s what they agreed upon, but it still feels dirty. “It was an honor to paint her.” He looks at her expectantly and it takes Korra a moment to realize he’s waiting to bid her goodbye. Her time here is up. “I’m mostly packed,” she quickly explains. “I just have to pack up a few more of my supplies.”

“Excellent.”

“Do you mind if I quickly say goodbye to Asami as well, before I leave?” She asks, hoping nothing in her voice betrays the magnitude of what she’s feeling.

“Not at all,” Mr. Sato tells her. “Please feel free to do so. It’s been a pleasure doing business with you, Korra.”

_ Business _ . The word makes her feel sick, even if it’s accurate.

* * *

Jinora helps her pack, although, like she explained to Mr. Sato, there isn’t much left for her to do.

“I’ll miss you, Jinora,” Korra says honestly as she watches the younger girl fold one of her dresses and place it in her traveling bag.

“I’ll miss you too, Korra,” Jinora tells her. “I wish you could stay.”

_ Me too _ , Korra answers silently.

“Where do you think you’ll go next?” 

“I’m not sure,” Korra says. “Probably somewhere in the Earth Kingdom. I want to travel for a little while before finding somewhere to settle down. I’ll be in town for a couple of days until the next ship out of here can pick me up.” Jinora just nods and finishes buckling the bag.

“Goodbye, Korra.” Jinora says, standing up and handing over Korra’s bag. “Make sure to write to me, if you can.” Korra sweeps her into a tight hug. 

“Thank you for everything,” she whispers, pulling away. “Best of luck to you.”

The easier of two goodbyes completed, Korra makes her way upstairs to Asami’s room.

Asami sits on the edge of her bed, her head in her hands, and when she looks up at Korra, there are tears streaking her face. She sniffles a little, sits up straight, and tries to compose herself.

“Goodbye, Korra,” she says, the words strained.

Korra sits down on the bed next to her, wraps an arm around her, and places a hand on Asami’s cheek to tilt her head to face her. She feels like crying too, but she knows that’ll just make the whole thing harder.

Asami rests her forehead on Korra’s, and the two girls breathe together until Asami’s sobs have calmed down and the tears on her cheeks have dried. Korra leans in to kiss her, and it is slow but desperate as they map one another’s lips as if to commit each other to memory. They finally pull away, cognizant that if they kiss for too long they might never stop.

“I made this for you,” Korra says, pulling out a folded sheet of paper from the pocket of her dress and handing it to Asami. She unfolds it with her long fingers and Korra watches as tears well up in her eyes again when she realizes it’s an image of the two of them. It’s just a simple charcoal sketch, but it depicts them wandering the park on the day of their first kiss.

“Thank you,” Asami breathes. “I’ll keep it forever.”

There is a finality in her words that makes Korra want to scream or cry or punch something or possibly all three. She’ll have a piece of Korra forever, yes, a memento, but they’ll never be together again. Korra realizes she needs to get out of the estate sooner rather than later before it gets even harder to leave Asami.

She stands up, as does Asami. “I love you,” Korra tells her. “I always will.” With that, she presses a brief, final kiss to Asami’s lips and leaves the room, shutting the door behind her and refusing to look back. 


	6. Epilogue

“A letter for you, Ma’am,” one of the younger Kyoshi Warriors says, approaching Korra with some nervousness and deference and extending it in her hand. Korra takes the envelope, not without some surprise that she’s received mail. Generally, she doesn’t stay in one place long enough for anyone to have her permanent address.

“Thank you,” Korra replies, retreating to a secluded area on the beach where she can read in private.

She is in her late twenties now, although she’s been told by some that she doesn’t look a day over eighteen and by others that she has the air of someone much older and wiser. Her lifestyle has been rather nomadic, and while she wouldn’t describe herself as aimless, there has been a certain lack of cohesion to the kinds of odd jobs and artistic projects to which she’s applied herself. In all honesty, she can’t quite pinpoint the chain of events that brought her to where she is now: on Kyoshi Island working on a cultural heritage and art restoration project and learning the Kyoshi Warriors’ distinctive fighting style in her down time.

Being here is a pleasant combination of mental stimulation and relaxation, even if she knows she’ll never settle down here or call it home. For Korra, “home” has meant nothing in the years since she’s seen Asami. She keeps hoping the feeling will fade, that the distinctive sensation that no matter how good everything else is, she’s missing something,  _ someone _ , who is a part of her, will lessen over time, but it doesn’t.

The envelope is creamy, expensive paper with just Korra’s name and address scrawled on it in elegant cursive. There is no return address. She’s curious to see what’s inside, but still takes her time opening it so as not to tear the envelope.

Once she pulls out the letter, neatly folded into thirds, she recognizes the monogrammed initials at the top of the page.  _ AS _ . Her heart gives a giddy leap, but she contains herself enough to sit down and read the letter.

_ My dearest Korra, _

_ I’m sorry it’s taken me such a long time to write to you. You’re a difficult woman to find or pin down, even if you’ve made quite a name for yourself these past few years. _

_ I understand you’ve been traveling around the world and that you’ve earned yourself quite a reputation as an artist. That’s good—it’s what you deserve, and I’ve proud of all you’ve accomplished and the name you’ve carved out for yourself.  _

_ While I don’t regret any of the choices that have led me to where I am right now, I do sometimes wonder what would happen if I’d done things differently. If I’d taken you up on your offer to run away together. I don’t know. My life has certainly not been perfect these past few years, but I’ve been lucky enough to continue self-studying engineering. I’m also rather proud to tell you that I’m now a business owner of a company that produces some of my very own inventions. I’ve been able to grow into myself in a way I never thought I would, yet I have acutely felt your absence. I wish we had been by each other’s side throughout all these accomplishments. _

_ That brings me to my request: I would like, more than anything, to see you again. I’ll be traveling into Republic City for the funeral of my father, who passed away recently. I am not terribly saddened by his passing, as things were strained between us near the end, although I do wish I had gotten the chance to say goodbye. I will be staying at my late father’s residence in Republic City for several months after his funeral in order to organize his affairs and I would be honored if you would come to visit me. _

_ Lovingly yours, _

_ Asami _

After reading the letter three times to ensure her excitement-addled brain retained any of it, Korra stands up and begins to make her way back to her quarters, a broad smile on her face. It’s time for her to start packing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Intentionally vague, I know. But in the end, I thought they deserved space to grow up and accomplish things away from each other, working through that sadness of missing one another, before reuniting. I have a few headcanons for what happens for the two of them after this story, but I want it to be open to interpretation (and to be honest, my real headcanon is very crack-y and doesn’t fit with the vibe of the story in the slightest).  
> Anyway, thank you to everyone who’s been here along the way. I have some light/fluffy/crack-y Korrasami and Kyalin in the works right now that I hope to post soon as longer one-shots. :) Stay tuned!


End file.
